Til It's All Blown Away
by kbrewster
Summary: AU: What was Emily's childhood really like? What if she wasn't really the Ambassador's daughter? Eventual Hotch/Prentiss. Multiple chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**I told myself I wouldn't start anymore multi-chapter fics until I was done with If You Only Knew, but I got really excited about this one. The first chapter of this goes along with the song Blown Away by Carrie Underwood. After that it doesn't really go with anything- just ideas I thought of as a followup! But I suggest listening to the song if you can- it's totally worth it, it's a good song : ) Anyway, this is an AU fic about Emily Prentiss' childhood. Basically, what if Emily's biological mother wasn't the Ambassador? What if Emily came to live with her under different circumstances? This will be several chapters and will carry on into Emily's teenage/adult years. Let me know what you guys think! **

**Warning: Alcoholism and abuse.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own CM or any of its characters.**

**Summer 1981**

Eleven year old Emily sat outside in the swing under the big oak tree in the backyard of her tiny house in Oklahoma. She slowly rocked herself back and forth, thankful for the few minutes of quiet she was able to get. She didn't get many of those these days. The swing was one of her favorite places, she would go out there and think. She would think about anything and everything, displacing herself from reality.

Today, her thoughts drifted to her mother. Her mother had died when Emily was only three-years-old. She remembered very little about her at all. It bothered Emily all the time, but today she couldn't seem to get her mind off the woman she hadn't gotten the chance to know. Every day after school, she would see mothers picking up their kids, happy and excited to be reunited with their child after a day of work or school. Emily had to ride the bus to and from school, which she didn't mind, she just hated when the bus pulled to a stop at her house. She hated coming home.

Emily knew hating being at home wasn't normal. She knew her life wasn't normal. But she dared not tell anyone. Instead, she made up excuse after excuse. Lying had become part of her personality, and sometimes she almost hated herself for it. She was tired of lying, she was tired of hating everything, and she just wanted some answers. Today, she decided, today would be the day she would ask her father the question she'd been dying to ask him her whole life.

She would admit, she was scared. Her father wasn't the nicest person. In fact, if she was honest with herself, she hated him most of all. She knew she wasn't supposed to hate, especially not her own father, but he made it impossible to feel any different. Not with his seemingly permanent drunken demeanor, not with the names he called his own daughter, not with the way he would hit her. When Emily was younger, he wasn't so bad. She could even recall a few happy memories in her childhood where her father was sober, where he seemed normal. Those times grew fewer and farther in between as Emily got older, and now they were just memories. But she had questions, and she felt like she deserved to have them answered.

Shaking slightly, she rose from the swing. It was now or never, she told herself. She ran to the house, accidentally slamming the screen door as she entered the tiny dwelling. She mentally kicked herself as soon as it happened, because the loud noise had apparently woken her sleeping, drunk father. He shot up from his normal spot on the blue, ugly, fabric couch. The thing had to have been twice as old as Emily. It smelled awful, too.

"Sorry," Emily said quietly.

"What have I told you about that damn door, Emily?" he said, not loudly, but his tone of voice was low and scary, and it sent chills down Emily's body.

"I know, I know. I'll be careful next time. I promise," she said quickly.

Her father lay back down, ad if he was going to try and continue his nap. Emily looked at the clock, it was almost 4 in the afternoon. He'd been asleep for hours. _Now or never. _She reminded herself.

"Wait," she whispered, making her way into the small living room, perching herself on the arm of the couch.

"What?" her father huffed, obviously annoyed with her, but she continued after taking a deep breath.

"I- I have something to ask you," she said, looking down at the floor, picking her nails as she did so.

He sat up and rolled his eyes. Emily opened her mouth to ask the question, but no sound would come out.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, lowering himself so he was right in Emily's face. His breath smelled like whiskey, and it made Emily feel sick.

She felt tears welling in her eyes, but she fought them back. This wasn't the time to cry. She took another breath, and looked her obviously drunken father right in the red, glassy eyes.

"I want to ask you about my Mom," she told him.

"Oh God," he said, leaning back into the back of the couch. "Not this shit again," he muttered. Emily ignored him.

"I just- I want- I want you to tell me how she died," Emily said, suddenly gaining confidence. She already knew the answer. She'd figured that out years ago. No one had ever said to her out loud. Maybe nobody else knew what really happened, but Emily knew. After all, she had been home when it all happened. She had been young, and she didn't remember much about her mom beforehand, but that was a day she knew she would never forget.

"You know how she died," her father told her.

"I know what people told me. That it was a twister. But you and I both know that's not what happened, don't we?" Emily said, standing from her spot on the couch now.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, you stupid kid. You were little when she died, you don't know anything,"

"I remember a lot more than you think I do. I remember it was thundering. I remember I was scared of storms, I remember Mom was really good at making me not so scared anymore. I remember I called for her to come to my room, but she never answered me. I remember walking to the kitchen from my room and seeing you with your hands clasped around her neck. I remember you yelling at her. It was _you_!" Emily was yelling now. She knew she'd pay for it. But it was worth it.

Her dad shot up from the couch, pushing Emily back up against the wall. He was right in her face. She closed her eyes. She knew what would happen next. She didn't tense up, knowing that would only make it worse. He slapped her across the face a few times. He grabbed her shoulders and held her in place.

"You don't have any idea what you're talking about. I would _never _hurt your mother!" he screamed.

"Just like you'd never hurt me?" Emily asked.

That's when he lost it. Her dad yelled something Emily couldn't quite make out, and he threw her against the ground. Hitting her, kicking her, harming her in whatever ways he felt necessary. Emily took it like she always did, remembering this wasn't the worst it had ever been. She would be okay. After some ice packs and a few days being held up in her room, of course.

When he finally stopped beating her, he sauntered back over to the couch, collapsing on it, lying on his stomach. Emily could swear he was crying, but she didn't care. He deserved to cry. Emily knew she wasn't making up the memories she described to him. Her father killed her mother, but covered it up, blaming it on the tornadoes that so happened to pass through that very same night. He had taken Emily into the storm cellar, claiming her mother had gone to check on the neighbors and would be back soon, or would stay with them til it was over. But then, her mother was gone. Dead. Everyone believed the twister story, either that or pretended to believe it so they wouldn't have to think of the alternative. Maybe that's what Emily had done all these years, but she was done.

Emily sat up from the floor, biting her lip to keep herself from making any noise. Her entire body ached as she dragged herself down the hall into the bathroom. She shut the door quietly, and flipped on the light.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She would definitely have one, if not two, black eyes. Her lip was bleeding. Emily got out a cloth and ran water over it, pressing it to the wound, hissing slightly in pain as she did so. She lifted her shirt up slightly, revealing the already bruised skin underneath. She would be in pain, she knew. But she'd live. She always did.

Emily turned the light off and went back into her bedroom. She wished she had remembered to get an icepack out of the refrigerator, because now that she was in her room, she didn't plan to come out for awhile. She sighed, laying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe she had been stupid to confront her father like that. Maybe she'd never get the closure she needed, hearing from somebody other than herself that her father killed her mother. Maybe her whole life would be a constant cycle of wondering and getting hit for it. Maybe.

She thought about this for awhile, falling asleep in the process. She jolted awake from a bad dream sometime later. She glanced at the clock, it was almost 9 o'clock. She raised her head to look out the window, noting the darkness. But it was a different kind of dark, she realized. The clouds were as black as she'd ever seen them. The air had an almost greenish tint to it. Then the lightning cracked through the sky, in bolts so bright it lit everything up, Emily could swear she could see all the way into town as bright as it was. It wasn't raining. Emily knew the signs, she knew what was about to happen. Though it hurt, she jumped up from her bed, tip-toeing into the main part of the house, into the living room to confirm her theory. She hoped she was right. She had to be right.

Emily turned the small television on in the living room, muting it so she wouldn't wake up her sleeping father. She turned the channel to the news, looking for the weather forecast. She sat on the floor, directly in front of it and turned the volume up just the slightest bit, pressing her ear to the speaker. Emily listened closely when she saw the weatherman on screen, stating that the area was under a tornado watch, and should be advised to prepare to take cover should the sirens go off, indicating a funnel cloud. Emily wasn't sure how to pray, in fact she couldn't recall a time she'd done it in her entire life. She didn't know if it even worked, but for the first time she prayed three simple words: _blow it down. _She wanted all the windows to shatter, every piece of the house to be destroyed. She wanted all the memories to flee her mind. She wanted to forget all the bad things life had sent her way. She wished it could all just blow away, like the leaves in the wind, carried off somewhere far, far away, never to be seen again.

Being from Oklahoma, Emily was used to these types of warnings, storms like this were common. She decided to go outside, into the storm cellar that generally every family had in the area. She made sure it was well stocked with enough food to last them at least into tomorrow morning, a radio with plenty of batteries, and that the tiny bed in the corner was made. When she was satisfied, she went back into the house, and waited. Her father was still sleeping, she wondered how much he'd drank after she retreated into her room. Judging by the smell of the place, it'd been a lot.

Suddenly, Emily heard the unmistakable sound of the sirens. They were loud, and Emily knew exactly what to do. She found it odd though, that her father was still seemingly asleep on the couch. Normally, the slightest sound would wake him up. She ran to the living room, shaking his shoulder with as much force as she could.

"Dad, there's a storm, we have to get into the cellar!" She yelled, though he still didn't stir. Then she realized, he wasn't sleeping. He was passed out. He wouldn't wake up for hours. Emily was familiar with this. She was a tiny girl, taller than most of the girls in her grade, but bony. There was no way she could even think about dragging him to safety, it would be impossible. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it made Emily a bad person, but she realized she didn't care in the slightest as she spun around and ran out the door.

The wind had already begun to pick up, Emily felt like she might blow away. She wanted to run to the cellar, but the wind was too strong. It knocked her back several times. The sirens were so loud, they were almost deafening. Emily made it to the cellar, struggling to open the door against the force of the wind, but finally she got it open. She hurried inside, slamming the door closed and locking it behind her. She got there just in time, because no sooner did she hunker down in the corner of the small square cellar on the bed, did she hear the unmistakable sound of a tornado. It sounded like a freight train as it passed by, and Emily knew her house was being destroyed, along with everything inside it, including her father.

To most people, Emily was simply doing what she was supposed to do when there was a storm. She took cover, she found a safe place. But in Emily's mind, this was revenge. Revenge for her father stealing her mother's life from her, for taking her away from Emily. For being mean to Emily. For calling her names parents weren't supposed to call their children. For beating her, for giving her ugly bruises and cuts on her body. For making her lie to everyone she encountered. He'd never be able to hurt anybody else, now. Besides, Emily was old enough and smart enough to know anyone who consumed as much alcohol as her father did, was slowly killing themselves anyway.

_It's over._ She thought to herself as the wind continued to howl outside. There was no going back. When the storm was over, Emily would have no home. No father. No mother. Nothing but memories of the life she'd once lived. Everything would be shattered, broken, and blown away. Emily turned the radio on, listening for updates on the storm. She sat on the bed again, bringing her knees up to her chest, waiting for the okay to come out of the cellar. Waiting to start her new life, wherever it lead her.


	2. Chapter 2

Emily wasn't sure how long she had been in the storm cellar. It sounded calm outside from what she could tell- she wasn't listening to the radio anymore, she had no idea what had been said about the current state above the ground. The sirens had stopped, the tornado seemed to have been sucked back into the sky. But still, Emily didn't move. She just sat on the bed, knees pulled up to her chest until someone found her.

"Emily?" she heard an unfamiliar female voice call, but Emily didn't move, didn't look up. She just sat there.

"Emily," the voice said again, and Emily felt someone sit on the bed next to her. Rather than look the woman in the eye, she turned her head to look at the wall instead.

"It's okay," the woman said, putting an arm around Emily's shoulder, causing Emily to flinch- her skin still bruised from her last encounter with her father. The woman removed her hand, putting it on Emily's knee instead. "My name is Kate, I'm with the police and I'm here to help you. Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Emily had no idea how to answer that question. She was feeling at least a thousand different emotions, she guessed, but mostly she was just scared. Emily wasn't one to be scared very often, especially not one to admit it. She certainly wouldn't start now.

"I'm fine," Emily mumbled, still staring at the wall.

"Will you come with me?" Kate asked, her voice slow and caring. "I'll get you out of here and we'll get you checked out, okay? You've been down here at least two days, and you look pretty banged up. Did you get hurt in the storm?" Kate continued.

Two days? Emily wondered. How had two days gone by so quickly, yet dragged so slowly? Reluctantly, Emily rose from the bed, ignoring Kate's last question and allowing Kate to help her up out of the cellar, even though she was perfectly capable of getting out by herself. She finally looked at Kate, noting her tall stature, much like Emily's own. She had light brown hair, neatly tucked up into a ponytail. She had a sort of look in here eye Emily didn't see in many people- one that said they genuinely cared. Mostly Emily only saw that look in a few of the teachers she had had in school before. She definitely never saw it in her father- maybe her mother once had that same look about her, but Emily didn't know. She'd never know.

Once Emily was up and above ground, she simply stared and the sight around her. Nothing looked the same. Debris lay strewn across what was once her yard, some of it she assumed were parts of her house. She looked up where her house used to stand, to find nothing but a pile of brick, wood, and shattered glass. The tree that she used to swing from was toppled over, seeming to have hit her house directly. She knew her father had died in the storm, she knew that as soon as she shut the cellar door behind her, but seeing the damage, seeing how it happened, it was different.

"Emily," Kate said, bringing Emily back from her thoughts. "I'm gonna take you over to that ambulance," she pointed. "And they're gonna make sure you're okay,"

Emily nodded, following Kate a few feet over to an ambulance Emily hadn't even noticed before. She sat down and let the EMT's check her out, even though she knew she would be fine- it was nothing she hadn't dealt with before. She sat still- not answering any of the medical personnel's questions about where all the bruises and cuts came from- it didn't matter now anyway.

The medical staff turned to talk to Kate, and Emily kicked her feet back and forth, wanting to ask what was going to happen to her, but as much as she wanted to know, at the same time she didn't. She had nowhere to go- what did that mean for her? Foster care? Emily knew a few kids in her school that were in foster care, and they hated it. Emily was tired of hating where she lived, who she lived with. She decided right then and there she wouldn't go into foster care, no matter what.

Kate sat down next to Emily. "Why won't you tell us where all this came from?" She asked softly, referring to Emily's wounds.

Emily sighed. "Because it doesn't matter anymore," she said simply, glancing towards the house.

Kate immediately understood what Emily meant.

"Oh, honey," she said. "Did this happen a lot?"

Emily said nothing.

"You're gonna be okay," Kate changed the subject slightly after a few moments of silence.

"I know," Emily replied. She noticed Kate was hiding something from her by her behavior. "What are you not telling me?" she asked quietly.

"You already know what I'm about to tell you," Kate said softly.

"My Dad's dead. I know. I've known that for two days, I don't need you to tell me," Emily shot back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Okay, okay," Kate said. "I'm sorry. You're probably wondering what's going to happen to you now, huh?"

Emily said nothing, only looking straight ahead. "I don't care,"

"Yes you do," Kate told her.

"What do you know?" Emily asked bitterly, unsure of why she was taking her anger out on the woman sitting next to her, who only wanted to help her. "I don't _have _anywhere to go. I'm eleven, I know what happens to kids who don't have anywhere to go, and I'm not going there- to foster care, with people I don't know who probably don't want me anyway," Emily made a move to jump down and run away, but Kate grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back.

"No, no, they're looking for some family that could take you, some of your mother's family," Kate reassured her.

"They probably don't even know I exist," Emily said.

"That doesn't mean they won't want to help you,"

Emily sighed. "Well where am I supposed to go until you figure that out?"

"A lot of the town's been destroyed, or damaged in some way. People are pretty much just gathering wherever they can. My house actually managed to stay pretty much intact somehow, so there's some people there. You're welcome to come stay there,"

"Thanks," Emily said flatly. "But you're not going to find anyone," she reminded the woman.

After that, Kate took Emily to her house- where a few other people Emily recognized from town were already staying. Emily avoided them all as much as she could, until dinner when everyone was together in the living room. Everyone kept telling Emily how sorry they were, how upset she must be. They kept telling her it was okay to talk about it, that it was okay to be upset.

When she simply couldn't stand it anymore, she rose from her seat. "There's nothing to talk about!" She yelled, storming off and going into the first room she could find, closing the door behind her. She had nothing to talk about, really. She got what she prayed for, and that was that. Maybe she still didn't know what she was supposed to be feeling, but it wasn't like Emily could change what happened.

Emily rolled her eyes when she heard someone knocking at the door.

"What?" she asked flatly.

"Can I come in?" Kate's voice asked.

"Like you're really giving me an option," Emily responded.

Just as Emily expected, the doorknob turned, the door creaked quietly, and Kate walked in the room, closing the door behind her and sitting beside Emily on the floor, their backs against the bed.

Emily crossed her arms and looked in the opposite direction of Kate.

"Nobody meant to upset you," Kate told her.

"I know that. I just want to be alone. I don't want to talk- what's there to talk about?"

"There's a lot to talk about," Kate said. "But no one's going to pressure you to- not yet, okay? I'll go ask everyone to calm down a little,"

"Thank you," Emily said quietly.

"Look at me," Kate half-asked, half-requested.

Emily turned her head to look at the woman.

"I don't know how long you'll be here, but if you do decide you want to talk- about anything at all, you can come talk to me," she informed Emily. Emily nodded, not knowing what to say.

"Thank you," she said finally.

Kate smiled before saying, "I'll leave you alone now, but remember what I said,"

"Okay," Emily whispered, as Kate got up and left the room. She was glad Kate seemed to understand that Emily didn't want to talk, even if Emily had wanted to, she wouldn't know what to say. Emily got up from the floor, although she didn't want to return to where all the other people had gathered, so, she decided to climb up on the bed. She lay there thinking about the past couple of days, wanting to ask at least a thousand different questions, but she didn't know who to ask. The only thing she knew for sure, is that for the first time in her life she was completely alone.


End file.
